you are a blip, not a point

gij has been calling me, almost every night for the past few days. I sporadically hear from lizard, but from the others? nothing.
gij has a routine that can't be broken without repercussions. in order for anything to happen between us, I must infiltrate his life. Is it worth it? How can I figure that out unless I try? I have wanted to learn how to be patient. I am young yet. Do I have time?

Over 800 miles from the place I've made my home. I say, "I am looking forward to moving away." I am. Sometimes it feels like I've used up what I can of Providence. I know there's so much more than what I've seen and experienced but the town is too small. Too many people know each other. Nothing new is ever possible.

Bones has been bothering me. some people are better one on one. Is this what Steel meant when he said he felt uncomfortable when I was around his friends? that's how I feel about Bones. Some friends really add to interactions. Bones seems to subtract. I don't know how to express this and I don't want to say anything to her until I can give this information as a critique and not a criticism.

My throat is sore. my head aches. The shift key doesn't always work on this keyboard. other keys hiccup too. I can be happy I'm away. I can be happy to be home. I don't want to go home.

Glad I got rid of ex-otter's number so I can't call when I feel weak. His job almost closed and though I love that diner, a big part of me wanted it to fold just so he could be thrown into turmoil again. I hate that feeling. I hate the selfishness. I still want him to hurt. I still want to not want that. I want to be fine with my life and accept what has happened to me. I want to know what "move on" means. "What is love?" What do you know?
Power.
Control.
Love is not these things.

Love is wanting what's best for someone, isn't it? Even if you are not that thing. Love is acceptance, isn't it? If these are the definitions, perhaps I have never loved. But I swear, I swear I have felt it so passionately I wanted to die when the source was gone. I have died, I have been on the verge, and I have held mental knives to my wrists so many times I could swim away in the ghost blood. The bridges I have jumped, the traffic I have jammed, the pills I have swallowed, the bullet in the brain and the sleep I refused to end. Do you know these needs? Have you felt that? Ex-otter said no. How can someone love me if they do not understand that being suicidal goes into remission but is always hidden in my marrow? My body is made of bones and in the center of each one are the cells that make me who I am.

Even with my new-found fear of death, I can still yearn for it. I do not understand. I miss my life. I miss what I was going to have. "Sometimes all of this still feels like it isn't real." I am in Asheville. Two days ago, Frederick. Before then, Philadelphia. Then Providence. No arms. Just armor.

tell me you love me, just make sure you believe it.

things don't matter the way they used to. Or the way I remember that they used to; I am not certain that they ever mattered at all. Everything is temporary. Nothing stays. No one stays. This is a truth of life that I cannot comprehend or understand. Like death. Like loss. Like a love that hurts instead of nourishes.

I still remember the way he used to look at me. I remember his crooked lipped smile. I remember small things about all the people I have loved. Someday there will be someone who loves me for my small things. I hope. Another dream I try to hold onto, another dream I don't really believe in.

next to last ditch effort/ before the storm of me

hitchhiking across the states so I can figure out what I want at home. away from everything, I can see: I want more than what I've been giving. sex is not enough; nor the right direction. I have suspected as much. I need love.
using physical attraction as a substitute for emotions. using men to feel better about myself. letting myself be used. I have grown tired. I do not want my body to rule my mind. I no longer wish to be less than what I am.

I want to be in love again.

it's hard still, because ex-otter invades my brain. Today I turned to bones and said, "I miss him." she rubbed my back and we talked a little. it helped. "I still think about him at least once a day. usually more." this sounds familiar. who else did this to me? oh, the one when I was 18. when california killed me.
I want to be in love again. at the same time, I am scared. I'm terrified of commitment. there is good reason for this. look at california. look at ex-husband. look at brit. look at ex-otter. look at steel. look at my own father. there are so many men that have hurt me. there are so many men that have lied. can't someone help me to break this pattern? I want to. I want to so badly.

four men. each equally distant. each that I would be happy to date, if they could only say so. rare. shark. gij. lizard. I hear from none of them. pack it up, baby. move on. if they can't even commit to communication, what can they commit to outside of themselves?

Oh. I am exhausted.

what's that phrase? "looking for love in all the wrong places?" at least I've only had sex with one of them. hell, I haven't even kissed lizard. what the fuck.
it's time to lay down my weary/wary head. it's time to let my heart rest. champagne and sun and loss and love. champagne and touch and sigh and bed. tonight I sleep in a new place. like last night. like tomorrow. the difference between this and any other night at home? I sleep alone.

redux. whatever that means.

I want you to come over and be wooden. I want to lay my head on your chest and feel you breathe. I want my hair to be like it was two months ago, so you can run your fingers through it and sigh. I want to breathe you in and find you still there in the morning.
When I wake up, I want to open my eyes to you watching me. I miss that smile. I miss feeling hopeful.
I love you. It's a small thing. I love you, and it's alright because it's an ache I've missed. You don't know what it does for me, or to me, or because of me. You don't know and probably never will because you could not give me a proper chance.
I am a tiny thing that grows in one's mind. I start out small but manage to expand and spread my roots and shoots through an entire being. You are concrete that is not yet weather-worn enough to crack to accommodate me. I am beauty. You are indifference.

I can hear you playing. I love passion. I love passion that is shared freely and without regard for one's self. I love passion that threatens to burn a person, but they rein it in just in time. Your passion was always subdued. Who would you be if you let go? Who would you be if you let yourself be aware of all the things you know? What if your chosen ignorance and desire for ease of life just fell aside? I am passion. I am romance. I am pain. I am the fire. You feel these things, but are not them. I miss the idea that we could have had these things in common. I thought something would wake in you. Instead it just turned over in its slumber, rubbed its eyes, and immediately fell back to sleep.

I read you too easily.
I thought it was good to be able to know what someone was thinking, what they were feeling, and what they wanted. I thought this was beneficial to me. Instead it just made me lose respect when I would ask them for what I already knew, and they lied. You lied. Constantly.
The tragedy is that you thought you were sparing me. The tragedy is you didn't even know you were doing it.

"I thought you could feel things the way that I do." I think you could if you would open up some of the boxes you've so tightly closed inside of yourself.
I would see you again if you could open up your eyes. I'd see you again if I thought it would mean anything at all. But to you, it won't. You liked to watch my face, but you were making yourself like me. I understand because I did it too for a while.
Knowing you are out there hurts me. I can't explain it. Knowing you are not who you could be is painful. Knowing you hold yourself back enrages me. You could be amazing if you would let yourself lose sight of your comfort.
You could be amazing if you would remember that easy is not the same as best.

a word that I can't understand

He says, "don't you think I'm boring?"

Boring?
No.
I want to tell him, "You are beautiful: too beautiful. The shape of your eyes makes my heart ache. I watch your profile when we are together and I know that you aren't looking. Every time you touch me, it's a surprise. A sweet, pleasant surprise that makes my stomach flip. Being around you and listening to your ideas makes me feel a little more alive than before. You re-awaking a part of me that I thought had died when ex-otter left me. You are young, though older than me. You are responsible, but happy. You are upbeat. You are too innocent to be interested in me; yet you say you are. I think that I could trust you, but first I have to win you. You are an enigma. I cannot read you. I can't tell what you're feeling. You are one of the few people that I've felt that way about. But boring? No. You are not boring. That is a word that would not enter into my vocabulary when I am with you."

He kisses like he doesn't know how. Closed mouth, no tongue. His hands are gentle as he strokes my leg. I make every move first. Every move. I find this disarming.
He says, "maybe we could be good for each other. I could become more assertive, and you could become more self-confident." I don't know if this is true, but I like that he wants it to be. I hope this continues.

Logistically, I'm not sure we could date. I don't even know if he'd want to. So many women think he's beautiful. I am just some weirdo with strange fashion sense and bizarre hair. Part of his appeal is his distance. Why must I be attracted to emotionally unavailable men? Is it a defense mechanism, born from my ex-otter broken heart?

I don't even know if I'm really feeling all of this or if I just want to. All I know is that I think about him a lot. The idea of corrupting him is very appealing. At the same time, I think it might be a shame for him to lose such endearing innocence.
He called me charming.
Am I charming?

Shy men are my forte.

what the fuck happened to you?

I used to love to see your name. I adored the way the a and the e nestled together. When we were dating, I would thrill at seeing our facebook relationship status. I am embarrassed to admit that. I was proud to be with you. And just so you know, I think you could have learned much more from me if you had just let yourself.

When I look at your picture, my heart doesn't do what it used to do. Seeing you today was a huge disappointment. "You smell like cigarettes." "I smoked one earlier." Why do you put on cedar if you smoke cigarettes? Why bother even attempting to smell good? Nothing covers that odor. Whatever happened to quitting? Was that just a line you gave me because you wanted to win me over? Was there anything that wasn't you trying to be what I wanted instead of who you were? We had a connection. Where did it go?

You called me confrontational. You thought I knew that. I didn't. I don't want to be confrontational. How can I know these things if no one tells me? When you upset me, I told you. I told you why, and how, and when, and what I needed. You are so unwilling to change in reality. You are a static person. How is that version of safety? What's it like, never changing? Never wanting to change?

You are not right. The way you do things is not better. Repeat this to yourself until your ego can deflate enough for you to see over it.

You are more spiteful that you realize.

You are so fake. The pseudo-concerned look you gave me when you so earnestly asked, "are you ok?" today made me want to spit in your face. Why wouldn't I be ok? I hope you weren't being pretentious enough to think that, if I wasn't alright, it had anything to do with you.
Why do you pretend to care? If you did care, your actions would show it. You would not have been an asshole to me. You would have talked to me and let me in just a little bit. I don't care that you don't love me. I do care that you thought my love was so shallow that if we weren't having sex, the feeling would evaporate.

How can you ever understand anyone else if your understanding of yourself is so fundamentally limited?

I can't imagine the life you must lead any more than you can comprehend my constant introspection. I am so angry with you. Mostly, however, I'm just hurt.
I am tired of letting myself matter so little to the people around me.

Steel, I miss you.

another night in someone else's bed

Last night I had vivid dreams. My sister was trying to kill me. She kept taking apart guns and making them smaller. When I ran, she calmly told me that I was merely giving her a better shot. I could imagine how the bullet would feel as it pierced my back. I was terrified. My father supported her decision. For some reason it was ok to kill me because I was on medications. I refused to stop taking them.
I also dreamed that I walked into the Elm and ex-otter was sitting at the bar. He looked angry that I was there. I was very calm, and smooth, and he glowered at me. Later I wrote to him and asked if we could get back together. He agreed, saying it was what he wanted. I doubted him, and made him repeat that he wanted to be with me. As I walked alone, thinking about it, I realized that I wasn't ready yet to be in a relationship again. I needed him to be single for a while and figure out his shit. Then I would be ready to dedicate myself to him. Frequently in my dreams of him, I find some way to belittle him for the choice he made in leaving me and dating deafgirl. It gets tiring.
When I was awake in bed, half-dreaming, I thought of how different things would have been if dru had died the first time he overdosed. It was in December. I went to the hospital with ex-otter and met his parents for the first time. At that point his father blessed his good fortune for having caught dru when he was passed out. Had he been any later, dru would have died. But what if he HAD died? I think ex-otter would not have left me at that time. He didn't know deafgirl at that time. I would have been the new girl to take his pain away, instead of the reminder of bad times that I became. But would their parents have been ready to deal? His overdose gave them months to prepare for the worst. Did it work? It didn't with ex-otter.

These dreams get old and worn out. I feel pale and thin, like paper that's been erased too many times. Where do these anxieties come from? Why did I dream about someone pursuing me sexually; someone I couldn't understand and didn't feel any interest for? Why am I depressed? Why do I get so lonely?
Some days that old feeling returns. I want to go to sleep and live there instead of waking up and dealing with people. These people with their demands and accusations. They wear me down. People with their poor communication and poor understanding. People that don't give me a chance to get things right. I don't like this life. I don't like where I am and I don't like how I feel.

I miss feeling like an integral part of someone's life. I miss having that constant ear at the ready. I will not have that again for a long time.
I dreamt I could get over ex-otter but when I woke up I realized by the dream that now is not the time.
It gets easier, yes, but it doesn't go away.
This is a lesson to be learned. It is chronic pain; like the ache in my shoulders that I've learned to ignore. Or the sore muscles in my legs from riding my bike. They are a part of life. They are a part of my life.

Imagine the day all the pain is gone. I think the trick is to find something greater than the pain. Right now it is still impossible for me to imagine that.

not as bad as he seemed to think

I've had a hard time trying to pin down what I feel in regards to Steel. I still am not sure. I have frequently felt that he was just humoring me, but I don't know why. I am not sure what he got out of being with me, other than sex. He seemed dissatisfied with me in every other way. I realize now that the feeling I've had all this time is that I will never do anything that is right in his eyes.
This is a bizarre feeling. I do not enjoy it. I do not understand it. He has an indescribable pretension that I've put up with because I felt he had other redeeming qualities. What it comes down to, though, is he is uninterested in acknowledging his feelings. He is uninterested in anything of personal growth that may require pain or effort. In short, he despises introspection; specifically of himself.

"You never just coast." He said it like it was some kind of revelation. It made me angry because within that phrase was every assumption he could make about me and my life. It was full of frustration with how I do things. He doesn't respect me or my choices. He thinks he does everything "right." I hate watching him walk. He has a swagger. I felt slightly embarrassed by it. The tilt of his head also annoyed me; like he wanted to literally look down his nose at everyone. He is not better than me or anyone I know. He is a one trick pony. He lamented my lack of passion. I have passion in droves. He never tried to discover my obsession. I wanted to know him. He wanted to coast.
I can make these claims without fear of reprisal. I will not contact him. He feels like I'm not good enough for him. He is far more shallow than I could have realized. He does not look beyond the surface. Me, I look everywhere else.
We could have complemented each other nicely.
I hate when people use the claim "I didn't want to hurt you" as some excuse for inaction. He is a coward. He has no ambition if it does not further his music. Good luck to anyone who may set their eye upon him. I hope someone someday helps him to see.

not an obsession

I just realized today that I have been trying to find people that look like him.
This is scary.

This is new.

an observation

I think I am ready to fall in love again.
I mean, for real this time. Mutually.

It is good to feel. I hope I find someone worthy of it.

At this point and time, I like to believe that I'm in no rush.

I think something new is coming.

it's a new kind of game

"stop stop stop stop," Rare breathed at me, holding the base of his cock. I slid back and watched the head throb, redden, grow. Finally Rare slowed his breathing down enough that I felt I could continue. This time when he begged me to stop, I looked up at him from where my head now rested on his thighs and asked, "why?" He seemed a little surprised, then responded, "well, if you want it you can have it." So I took it. He moaned like a woman; the best way possible. I couldn't help but moan along with him. I convulsively grasped his ass; his back; whatever I could grab as he thrust into my throat. He came and came and finally I was able to withdraw him from my mouth and smile.

Rare kisses with his lips closed. It's so strange. I haven't kissed anyone like that since orkie, back in 2000. He was an avowed celibate, uninterested in sexual contact. Good for me, otherwise who knows where we would have ended up?
Rare is NOT celibate: hence his interactions with me. "You're so sweet and proper," I told him. "I'm not as sweet as you think," he retorted like a movie script. Immediately he admitted to not having anything to back that up. Later I agreed to corrupt him.
Rare seems virginal, but I know he must not be. Women fawn over him all the time. I want to own him so that no one else will. This is a terrible idea. I want him because he's kind, gentle, honestly beautiful, funny, sweet, awkward, smart. His body is sculpted and pale. His eyes are my favorite shape, like Steel's are, but Rare's have a special slant to the inside corners. They make me ache. He doesn't watch me the way Steel used to. He rubbed my buzzed head impulsively as I sucked his cock. He stroked my leg as we watched "King Kong." He has beautiful knuckles. I adore his callouses. I am charmed by his toes. His bone structure is gorgeous. And his freckles? Divine.

I think I could end up hurting him very badly.

I'm not too concerned though; he has even less time than Steel did. I don't think there will be a chance for much to happen. He is so radiant. He seems to like me, or at least be attracted to me. He is quirky and utterly a mystery to me. I don't think he intends it though (unlike Steel who purposefully shrouds himself).

It would be nice to be with someone pure again. Though who can say what purity is?
He said, "I think I'm too vanilla." Mm. I find vanilla to be quite adaptable. It's a flavor that can go with anything.

not bitter

I am learning.
I loved someone for who they were, but it wasn't enough. That's fine, because the love is still a good thing.
He just isn't.
And I bet if we wait another week, we can do this dance again. But it doesn't hurt that much. It's just frustrating.
When did love stop meaning as much as it used to?
Or, when did my meaning of love change? All I've ever wanted from people is honesty and openness. Why is that so hard?

All I have ever been is myself.

It is all I can be.

death revisited

My ex-girlfriend's best friend's dad died. When Von and I visited her hometown, we stayed with her best friend and his family. His dad was smart, and kind, and funny, and gentle and I liked him a lot.
I am crying, I was sobbing, and I feel bad because it's not just because he died. It's because of dru, and ex-otter, and all these things that remain unresolved. Life is so messy and complicated. I screamed my tears out and now I feel drained. I scared Luca away with my crying. Usually she stays and licks my face, but this time the emotion was just too violent. I couldn't keep it in check.
I called Von and left her a message. Don't know if it made much sense. I hate death. I hate these deaths that leave the people around them mired in wreckage. I can't believe he's dead. I can't believe that people I know can die. I don't want to be desensitized to this like I once was. But it's so paralyzing to feel this.

Before dru died, death didn't touch me. I just didn't understand. Now I feel it every time I hear about death. It's painful and I am scared to shut it off. I don't want to be how I used to be; but sometimes it's incapacitating to feel everything so deeply and personally. I am not who I once was. How can I get to who I'm going to be?

Who do I have to reach out to? Various people, right? But no one to hold me and stroke my head and whisper to me and tell me it will be alright so that I actually believe. Not like that was ex-otter anyway. It was my ex-husband that could do that. But he's in a better situation now; he has more than what I could give. I think that I am happy for him. I hope I find that someday, too.

I need to do something; go somewhere; take my mind off of this. Or at least allow me to focus it differently. I have nothing else to say right now that wouldn't just repeat every entry I've ever made.

query

When I find out that someone I am attracted to is dating someone, they immediately stop being attractive to me.
Why can't everyone be like that?
It would save so much heart ache.

I felt like it was important that I write.

I felt my heart seize up when I thought I saw a picture of him. I suppose that's as sure a sign as any that I'm not ready to move on. The idea of starting a new relationship without the pain of heart ache is a new one to me. Well, not the idea. The practice. And it's so hard.
I am half in love with Steel, and I go back and forth. I am half hung up on ex-otter, but don't realize it until reminded. Lately people have been mentioning him to me. I get bitter out of habit. I don't even feel it that much anymore.
But every time I'm on my bike, I think of him. Every time I do anything related to bicycles, I think of him. Whenever I see a car from 82, whenever I hear the diesel rattle, I make sure it isn't him. "I saw ex-otter's deaf girlfriend last night," someone said to me. Yeah. "He knows sign language and everything. Did he know that before?" No. But I'm not surprised. He gets so drawn into things. Once upon a time, I was one of those things.
He wasn't anxious til he knew my anxiety. He wasn't deaf til he met her.
There are different kinds of not hearing. His is a very special case.

I may have made heart ache a part of my personality. It's hard to let it go. I need to forgive but I can't. I don't know how without an apology. Without acknowledgment.
I feel like, after four years, I've finally reached the point that I can feel joy for my ex-husband and his girlfriend. I think about the fun we used to have and our closeness and I hope that they have that too; but better. I think they do. I think they do and it makes me very happy for him. I want their animosity towards me to go away. I want to be friends.

So many wants in our lives. So many needs. So many people get hurt by our actions. Our inaction. Our words.
So much miscommunication; so much pain. Mistrust, distrust, misplaced trust.

I miss having a sure thing.

just a different feeling

I wish I could go back to a time when I did not love you. Go back to when your roommate and I first met. I wish I could un-meet him, and therefore never meet you at all. I would give up all that I have learned from you. Were it not for you, I'd probably have stayed single. Like I said then, there is no one in this city that I can imagine being with. There is no one else for me but you.
But if I could go back to 20 months ago, and keep us from ever having met, I think that we both would only benefit. I wouldn't have a broken heart. You wouldn't be a scumbag.
I've spent today in an altered state. I've entirely kept myself from being who I was. I've had a chance to think about things without having the anxiety to blame. And I miss you. I know it's no good; it festers and bubbles because there is nothing now to miss. I still love you and it colors every thing I do. Why didn't you just let me leave you all those times I tried? I stayed because you asked me to. But when you left me and I begged for you to stay, you ignored me. That's how we were. Never fair.
I still want you to understand. I still think that you can't, or won't. I still think you're not who you are; you've been changed and molded into something else. But I still miss your hands, and your eyes, and your voice. I miss your laugh. I don't know what else to say.

You left me and it changed the world.
Will this ever make sense in a way that stays? I'm tired of having understanding that comes and goes.

"What has to happen in order for you to forgive?"
"I need an apology."
Yeah.
Yes.

first a time, then a nothing

I love your eyes; they kill me. Them and the gap behind the canine on the ride side of your jaw. You look like you have an under bite, but you don't. You look like a lot of things that you're not.
Hey. I had a dream about ex-otter last night. He admitted to cheating without cheating. He admitted to his trespasses. It was a bit of a relief when I woke up, even if I knew it wasn't true. I saw some of his old roommates today. I asked about the house, then stopped myself. Things have changed. The people who loved that house the most are gone. I wonder what happened there. I wonder, then stop.
I still miss him, but it feels so useless. It's a habit now. It's a habit to love someone that I used to share something with. It's a habit to not let go. This is me. I am fiercely loyal; so much that I don't know how to let go. So much that I can't.
"Still single."
He may never understand what he has done. How about you, Steel? Why do you still text me? Why do you call? What do you get out of this? I appreciate it, but I don't understand. I love you, but I don't. You are so beautiful. You are so beautiful that I forget in between the times that I see you. When I look at your face, I get burned again. I see spots for hours. I miss you.
Not too much. But enough to notice.
I drank tonight and dressed ridiculously and pranced around for a crowd. It was a cabaret. It was acting. You would have liked it. We would have fucked later.
Now I'm alone in my apartment listening to fireworks from multiple locations. I want them to shut up. I want to fall asleep. I want someone in my bed, to share with me. To wake up next to. There is no one. I miss having someone near.

up too late again; damn my active brain

I have been thinking again about celibacy. I am realizing how I use men to fulfill me. I am realizing that it only works for so long.
Thinking about ex-otter has been hurting less lately.
I remember telling Puppy that I would be ready to date for my 29th birthday. He seemed sad that it would be so long. My 29th birthday is 9 months away. I don't know if that will be long enough. I should take more time than that. Steel was a good trial run. I'm glad he's not been stripped from my life. However, I would like to stop making exceptions.

"I want someone that doesn't eat meat, smoke, drink heavily, do drugs, or smoke pot regularly."
"That sounds like all the same category: meat and drug vices." I never thought of it that way. They are kind of inseparable to me, those things. How did Nik sum up years of decisions into one category? One thing I used to say was that I didn't want anyone who was or had been addicted to anything. I think it would be a good idea for me to reinstate that.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find someone that fits those categories? I have only ever dated one person that did, and I married him. Why the fuck did I ever leave him?

Oh yeah. The trust thing.

I lament, I mourn, I whine, I moan. I think it would be good if I got used to the idea of being alone for a long long time. Alone, Steel. Not lonely.

I guess there is a difference.

you are not who you say you are; I am not you either

I lied when I said that I do not love you. But it's also a lie that I do.
Is this the definition of love, to be torn between two worlds? No, I will not live in your's anymore than you would live in mine. I used to have a pretty firm grasp on my definitions. I think time changed that.

Steel said he thinks it takes a great trauma for people to change, and he thought that I had that. I do. I think trauma is what you make of it, and I've made mine out to be huge. I miss feeling like I was superior. I miss feeling like I was in control. I know it was all false, but it was so nice to feel smugly content.
But I don't want that anymore; I don't. It was wrong and cheap and cheating. I can do so much better than that. I can be real.

When I was in high school I used to have fights that I would narrate in my head. Is that drama? I would be outside of myself, and aware of it as I said cruel things. I still do that but it's not as pronounced. Sometimes I can even pull myself down and stop the pain. I am trying to make that more frequent.

Today I asked Steel, "what's it like being predictable?" It sounded pretty good. Much of my life I've cultivated some kind of unpredictability. I truly regret that now. But I also cultivated an adoration of small things; of soft coniferous buds, the sensation of paper-thin birch bark, blowing dandelion puffs. Each one that I see. I love that. I do not love my instability. I do not love being reckless.

I climbed across a rusted bridge on our first date. I loved that it scared him. Who am I if my actions are predictable? Who would I be if I wasn't different any more?
I kicked him out when I found out he'd smoked a cigarette. What if I could let go of everything? What if I could just accept it?

I miss the ocean, as though it were something I'd commonly been near.
I miss the ocean like we have some kind of bond.
I miss my sister, and her family, and the people that have left me.
I miss my brother, and my father, and my mother; and the last time all of us were in the same room. I can't imagine that ever happening again. Except maybe at my funeral.
I miss Christmas dinner.
I miss feeling whole.

I am broken and have been for years. I used to think I could be mended, or healed. What if broken is a personality trait? Is it hereditary? What if it never gets any better than this?

I said, "I am lonely." He said, "but you are not alone, right? You're just lonely?"
Oh Steel.
Don't you realize that sometimes I can't tell the difference?
Don't you realize that sometimes it doesn't matter?

wuh wuh wonder

I should feel something.
I don't.
I wonder at what point I will?

Well, maybe I'm just disappointed and don't know what to do with it. Maybe I don't feel anything because I have no say in things. But yeah, mostly it's disappointment.
People are so fucking typical.